


To Be Alone

by Springmagpies



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Constellations, F/M, Greek myth - Freeform, corona borealis, earth vs space, team earth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-02
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2021-02-17 22:02:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21650464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Springmagpies/pseuds/Springmagpies
Summary: Based on the Greek myth surrounding the constellation Corona Borealis, just when Jemma believes she will be alone forever she finds something magnificent.
Relationships: Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons
Comments: 14
Kudos: 26
Collections: Team Earth's November Challenge





	To Be Alone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Florchis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Florchis/gifts).



> I haven't posted in forever because school and work are crazy busy! But I am super excited to participate in Team Earth's November challenge with this constellation inspired fic! Special thanks to Teresa (@doctorclairefraser on tumblr) for creating an aesthetic set for this! She's incredible and you should check out all of her things. I would also like to give a special thanks to Flor (@florchis on tumblr) for the prompt inspo and for being such a help! Again, she is also amazing and you should check out her stuff as well! Now I hope you enjoy the fic!!

Her heart was constructed from kindness while her mind was as detailed and as ingenious as her father’s maze. The wits of Jemma Simmons were unparalleled but her goodness was what made her shine. When the travel-haggard hero had landed at her father’s gates, his dark eyes full of hunger and his shoulders set for a fight, she quickly came to his aid, providing him with nourishment, grace, and the golden thread that lead him back through the labyrinth to his victory. 

The minotaur had been locked away in the maze for many years. He was her father’s buried secret, the result of the gods meddling, and the traveling hero had provided his sword as a solution. He was handsome, the daring and daunting Grant Ward, with eyes like shards of obsidian and a jaw made of marble. It was no wonder that Jemma’s father, along with the rest of the kingdom, fell at the man’s feet when he returned from the maze, the minotaur’s head slung proudly over his broad shoulders. They paid no mind to the golden thread, the string of cleverness that had lead him out of the apparently unbeatable maze and traced back to the young princess. She had given it to him as a token of her admiration, for she had fallen for his striking figure and heroesque facade, but she had not meant it to bind them in marriage.

It was an effortless match for her father to make as she was an easy way to repay the kingdom’s debt to the young hero. However, she did not want to leave the life she knew. Yes, she wanted adventures and to see the world, but not against her will. Her eyes had admired him but her heart was not so easily taken. 

Tears streamed down her face as she bid her family farewell, standing at the edge of the ocean like it was the balance between future and past. Something twinged in her mind, some unsettling feeling she couldn’t put to words, but Grant’s plastered smile seemed kind and his hand was solid as he held firmly onto hers. Perhaps she could be happy with the hero, perhaps her heart could follow the ways of her eyes and fall for him. 

Oh, how wrong she was.

They sailed for many days, the blue of the ocean stretching into the infinity of the horizon. The longer they sailed the more she wished for home. The fondness that Grant had thrown upon her faded into the salty air and he often looked at her with indifference, much more engrossed in his crew and his tasks. He moved from chore to chore like he was following his own thread of thought, one that was nowhere near entwined with hers. His mind was set solely on the mission ahead, his wife an afterthought if a thought at all. 

After weeks of sailing the rough and stormy seas, the boat finally docked upon an island, the sand warm but the trees sparse and lonely. It was as if the island was made for misery. There were no animals there but the crew imagined they saw a sea monster lying in the depths of the water near the shore. A few scavenger birds soared occasionally overhead, but for the most part the dismal pile of sand in the ocean was quiet. Grant was acting strangely, his eyes drifting to the moored boat incessantly and his attention occupied on anything other than his wife. It was only after a heated day of work that he even registered her enough to sit beside her in the sand. 

“Are you alright my love?” Jemma asked as the sky faded into moon and stars, her hand reaching for his upper arm. When her fingers grazed the tough suntanned skin there, he jerked away like her touch had burned him. 

His obsidian gaze cut her face and she quickly took back her hand. Where had his smile faded to? He looked at her and his eyes spit lava in her direction while his words cut like molten glass.

“My mind was lost in a thought that you’ve now removed me from. Perhaps sleep will return it to me,” he shot. His voice was clipped and he swiftly moved away from her to lay in the cooling sand, his broad back turned to her like a wall. 

Jemma’s heart thundered in her chest as angry tears splashed at the rims of her eyes. What had she done other than show him kindness? What had she done to be treated with the same care he showed the sand now under his side? She blinked the tears forcefully back. No, he would not make her cry, she refused to give him the satisfaction.

She allowed herself to rest into the shifting sand, trying to ignore the unsettling feeling it gave her to have the earth move below her bones. Falling into an uneasy slumber, Jemma dreamed of her home. She dreamed of her mother’s soft green eyes and her small sister’s fair-haired head. She craved home with all her heart, her taste of what she thought was love turning bitter in her mouth. When she awoke it was to the sound of crashing waves and the crying scavenger birds who had come up empty. The sound of man no longer drifted to her ears and the lack of it had her bolt upright as quick as a lightning strike. 

“Grant?” she called, her head turned further up the beach. Her mind caught the panic before it could process it, but her feet moved on instinct. “Grant! Hello! Anyone!”

She called until her voice had gone hoarse while she searched the circumference of the small island. She searched until her legs ached and her skin burned red and angry of the glare of the sky. Unable to continue in her pointless quest of finding the crew, her brain finally allowing her to take in that the boat was no longer sitting by the shoreline, Jemma fell to her knees. Her skin hit the burning sand just as the sky turned noon-blue. The waves licked the wounds cut into her flesh by stray branches, results of her desperate exploration, but the saltwater was hardly noticed. 

Her voice was barely a whisper and her tongue spoke what her mind could only just come to terms with. “He left. The bloody monster left.”

She allowed herself a moment, or perhaps many, to take in her situation. She was on an island only the gods were aware of it seemed, abandoned and utterly alone. And yet, no tears came to her eyes. Yes, panic filled her heart, but no tears splashed her cheeks. Again, wherever the monster was, he did not deserve the satisfaction of bringing her tears.

Pulling herself up from the shoreline, her clever mind worked rapidly at keeping occupied and she began to gather some essentials for survival. By the time the day began to fade once more, she had enough firewood to begin making camp and a minimal amount of scavenged berries for food to settle her aching stomach. Having watched her husband, her  _ former  _ husband she thought _ ,  _ light the campfire the previous evening, she was able to recall the process relatively quickly. The sparks turned to embers and the embers into a flame and Jemma cheered into the night air before holding her face behind her palms to contain her emotions. The starry ceiling above her felt like it stretched into oblivion and the ocean suddenly became very loud. She felt encased by fear and water and tired tears formed in her exhausted hazel eyes. As her body wilted with weariness, she found sleep before the tears on her cheeks were even completely dry. 

Then the rains came. For the next three days they showered upon her from the heavens with unrelenting force. The sand whipped around her and the sun cowered behind the rainclouds leaving Jemma to yearn for the gentle rays more than anything. After the fourth day of pelting sheets of water, the third night sleeping in wet sand with barely any food in her rotting belly, Jemma dug her toes into the Earth and the shouts that only days ago had been for accomplishment quickly churned and bubbled into hot tears. Daring the downpour, she stood on the beach, her head pointed towards the cloud-covered ceiling, and cried into the sky.

“I want the sun! Where are you hiding it! I want--” Her lungs ached and her lamentation turned to gasping sobs as she clutched at the hair haloing her face. She wanted to curse Grant Ward and curse his crew and curse their ship and its eight-tentacled guardian. She wanted to go home or at least to not be alone. She wanted to be heard and seen and taken far away from the rainy beach she was deserted on.

Just as she was about to crumble down to Hades, to give up her golden thread of hope, the storm began to clear, balmy beams of sunlight freckling her face.

“Are you alright?” asked a gentle voice, the sound falling across her shoulder. 

Jemma whipped her head so quickly that her rain-wet hair struck and stuck to her cheek. Before her stood a man with eyes as blue as the ocean she had just turned away from. Perhaps the logical explanation for the warmth and comfort that suddenly filled her heart would be that the sun had finally shown itself. However, Jemma couldn’t help but think that the warmth was coming from him. 

Jemma swallowed hard, the sobs she had just cried still coating her throat. “Who--Who are you?”

“I’m Fitz,” the man replied shyly. He had the sweetest blush to his cheeks and the curls upon his head glowed gold in the newly formed rays of sun. Upon his crown sat a twisting wreath of grape leaves and she could spy a smattering of nearly-clear blonde hair upon his pale, lightly toned chest. Around where he stood, he cast an almost unearthly glow. It was only when she acknowledged this light that she realized she was speaking to a god. 

“Hello, Fitz. I’m Jemma.” It was the only thing she could think to say, her mind tired and confused and still drenched with raw emotion.

“It is very nice to meet you Jemma. Would you like some food?” Outstretching his hand, he offered her a roll of bread and purple grapes still upon their vine; from where Jemma did not know nor care. Smiling gratefully, she took his offer and they sat together upon the shore. 

“Now,” he began again, his blue eyes finding hers, “if I may ask again, are you alright?” 

“I believe so,” she responded between bites, “I am breathing and talking and Hades has not clutched me yet.”

A small grin grabbed at the corners of Fitz’s pink lips but he shook his leaf adorned head. “That is not what I meant. I heard your cry and I’ll admit your sorrow cleaved my heart in two.”

Jemma blinked hurting hazel eyes at the glowing figure before her. “Oh…yes. There is a rather painful story behind the sorrow you speak of.” When she shut her lips tightly, his face became lined with patience and he did not push her for the rest of the tale. He simply offered her his palm for comfort, resting it carefully upon her shoulder. Having finished the fresh food, her hand was free to grasp his where it laid upon her skin. They sat like that for quite a while, his heat soothing her rain-soaked mind.

“I can take you home, wherever that is,” he finally uttered, after minutes upon minutes of calming quiet. 

Jemma analyzed his stubbled face, searching the depths of his expression for any sign of falseness. “You can?”

“Of course. The gods can travel as they please. We can leave now if you would like.”

“Why are you helping me?” The question was off her tongue before she could stop it. She had been given away like a goat, had been treated as such by Grant and left to die alone and desolate on an island without a second thought. Why would a god even think to show her any care?

Fitz’s brows drew together in confusion before a look of clarity washed over his face and his shoulders sagged with grief. “You deserve to be rescued, you know,” he said, his voice barely loud enough to reach her over the waves but as solid as stone.

“Only to you, it seems.” She spat the words into the sand and she tried to ignore the tightening in her chest. 

“No, Jemma,” he countered, his voice louder now, “Goodness deserves to be rescued. Beneath your sorrow is a golden heart and that deserves to be loved and cherished and saved.” 

“And that is why you are saving me?” Jemma choked, looking from the grains of sand below her feet to the flecks of light in his eyes.    


“Yes, and I know what it feels like to be alone and it is a feeling that no one should be cursed with. And yet, people are. You are. And I wish to wipe that feeling from your heart as best as I can.”

Her heart ached and the sky was fading once more. The island narrowed to become just her and Fitz, his tender gaze and his halo of light. Sighing, Jemma leaned into him, his arms coming to hold her firmly. His embrace was like a hearth, his hands like home. She snuggled into his chest and felt the icy blades of loneliness dislodge from her heart, Fitz’s soothing presence a balm to the wounds in her very soul. 


End file.
